


Chewed Pencils

by wailing_whale



Series: Something to Remember [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Massage, basically just some plot work and practice ngl, bones and text books, but i was pretty excited about the massages, that was a good bit, these tags are making it seem boring but its not as bad as my tags i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wailing_whale/pseuds/wailing_whale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another installment of a series where Dave and John are hopeless high school boyfriends and are trying to work around a less than cooperative Dad Egbert. Also, fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chewed Pencils

If Dave focused hard enough, he could toss a tennis ball towards the wall across the room and make it bounce back, but only if he timed it properly, letting it slip past the gauntlet of John's swinging legs and not get stuck by his socked feet. He was sitting on the floor, back pressed to the wall and knees drawn up to his chest, and John sat in a flustered mess on the bed beside him, feet kicking restlessly as they hung off the edge.

"Dave?"

"Hm," he hummed lazily, waiting a moment before sending the fluorescent ball across the floor, narrowly missing John's absent minded attempts to halt it with his feet.

"Where is a distal phalanx bone even found?"

Dave looked up at him, letting the ball which he knew was already on its sure way back, neatly fall into his hand. "Do you really want me to try and answer that? Because I can and it'll be fucking awful, I promise you."

John didn't answer quickly, engrossed in the heap of binders and text books that lay over his lap and sprawled onto the mattress beside him.The front cover of one book, green and ineffectually attempting to stand out in appeal, was flipped towards Dave. If he wanted to, he might have read the title, but he didn't, because he was done with school as of yesterday and truth be told, bones and anatomy textbooks weren’t exactly part of his summer reading list. He regarded John again, taking in the knitted brows and slight frown, and smirked to himself. A pencil was held firmly between John's teeth, the stumpy length chewed to an impressive calibre, so much so that hardly any of the original yellow coating remained, only the wood underneath showing.

John bit pencils when he was stressed, as Dave had noticed after only their fourth year of being in school together. He had a rather impressive attention to detail, he thought.

Sighing quietly, John finally took the pencil out of his mouth, using it to circle something he had found on his notes. "It's a part of the phalanges group. Fingers,” he supplied quietly. John still hadn't spared a single look to Dave as he sat on the floor and was starting to wonder why he snuck over to his house at all if John would rather just study on his own.

"I knew that," he chided haughtily, tossing the ball again against the wall. It made a nice thump noise, rhythmic and even when he did it in time, over and over. The rest of the room was left to steep in silence, John occasionally punctuating the tennis ball sounds with his own binder ring snaps or his pencil tip hitting against the thick of his book, muted and insistent.

Minutes passed then like the minutes that had passed before, John sitting, shuffling through pages, muttering to himself, and Dave tossing the ball, letting the thump thump of the rebound reach musical integrity.

Toss. Thump. Thump. Toss. Thump. Thump.

At least it wasn't hot in John's house like it was in Dave's apartment. He had air conditioning, or rather, air conditioning that actually worked. The window across from Dave was closed to keep the cool in, its airy white blinds left to flutter and shift only when he threw the ball too close to them, kicking them up against the sunlight that streamed inwards.

John continued writing and Dave, growing bored, stopped throwing, instead looking up at the dust motes in the air, alighted and alive in the shafts of yellow from the window.

"Are you sure your dad isn't coming back home soon?" he asked, eyes still tracking the musical dances of dust that orchestrated in the air.

"He said he'd be out the rest of the day," John said, his voice sounding distant as he pored over his notes.

"All the talking and wearing down you've been doing on him would be wasted if he just dropped in and saw me in your room like this. I mean we're practically naked. Shit is getting borderline PG-13 in here."

"Dave,” John sighed, “You're wearing shorts. That is not practically naked. That's just normal people summer clothes."

"Everyone can see the dirty jungle of man hair on my calves, John. I'm exposed."

"I do not think they'd find anything close to man hair or a jungle, even if they searched really hard and with a microscope."

Dave glanced over at him, somewhat pleased to note the relaxed smile on his lips, even if he still wasn't looking at him.

"Not like you'd even know. Haven't given me a single look since I got here," he prodded gently.

“‘m busy, Dave. Unlike you I still have another final to study for.”

“Not my fault you signed up for an auxiliary course,” he mumbled. Growing tired of this, Dave lobbed the ball up, landing it right into John’s lap, who jumped and then finally glared at him, but he wasn’t angry. He never really got truly angry, especially with Dave.

“Why’d you want me over if all you were going to do was try and shut me up every few minutes?”

Sighing in resignation, John closed his book, though Dave noted that he kept his chewed pencil inside to keep his page for later. At last, he leveled a look to Dave, who was smirking, and maybe a little too much. He had gotten what he wanted and he’d enjoy that, even if it meant John was going to be slightly behind on his intense cramming.

“You study too much anyways,” he retorted, catching the ball as John sent it back to him. “When was the last time you took a break?”

John shrugged, which was a good enough answer as any for Dave, who got up from his place on the floor and gently pushed John down onto the mattress.

“What are we doing?” John grinned, clearly expecting some break time kisses. Dave however, had different ideas.

“Roll over.”

“What?” The smile on John’s face turned to confusion, then suspicion, his brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Just get onto your stomach, dude.” He shuffled over on the mattress as well, kneeling near the end of it in impatience. John quirked his lip, not sure if he should smile or not, but complied anyways, turning onto his stomach and propping his head up by his folded arms. Glancing back, he continued to send interested glances Dave’s way, but he was starting to understand when Dave scooted forwards, straddling his waist and using his butt as his own personal John-cushion.

It was a vaguely intimate position, undoubtedly increased as Dave smoothed his palms over John’s back, slowly and letting his fingertips run little creases into his thin shirt, but his demeanor was casual, not letting his hands slip into any questionable areas -- the slight dips of John’s waist, his hips, the hem of his boxers that poked up sloppily from under his shorts. He wanted to do this to give John a break, yes, but there were subtler undercurrents to his actions as well. He wanted have a real reason for being here, to risk getting caught here by John’s dad for an actually worthy cause.

He wanted John to feel him, appreciate his presence.

Want him, even.

John had elected to stop staring back at Dave, apparently enjoying the idea of a massage since his eyes closed as a small smile tugged at his lips. He grew little dimples in his cheeks when he did this and Dave liked that, letting his fingers knead and press hard around his shoulders. John genuinely was tense, which he attributed to too many needless hours hunched over a mess of books, and he was gratified with a small breathy sigh as he dug his fingers into his muscles the right way.

“Feels good,” John murmured into his pillow, which Dave was tempted to roll his eyes at. Of course it felt good; he was more than practiced with this kind of thing from his demanding brother, coercing him into massages every other week after he got home from work. He didn’t really mind giving them out, since if anything it was kind of relaxing to press and mush and knead, listening to silence and getting a chance to think with his hands busy and mind idle. But with John under him, things felt different, and his mind wandered as usual, but it wandered to different places, like the sounds he hoped John would make if he pressed him just right, or how his skin felt so hot to his touch.

His fingers skimmed over the bunches of muscles that ran parallel to his spine and the fabric was soft under his palms, but it got in the way, pulling wrong and distracting to his movements. Dave leaned forwards, tugging the hem of his shirt upwards, and muttered close to his ear. “Shirt off, babe.”

He moved slowly, almost as if just waking up, but pulled his shirt off as instructed. It fell to the side of the bed, of little interest to both of them.

“Dave, I have to keep studying,” he protested feebly, but he was already laying back down, eyes closed. “There are like three units I haven’t even touched and my final is tomorrow.”

Humming lazily, Dave focused instead on John’s newly uncovered back. It was hardly a new sight to him by any means -- he couldn’t have grown up with John and not seen his back a couple or so times, but the sight now, when they were like this felt special somehow, a guard let down from its post, another barrier removed from between them. Dave pressed his hands against him again, pleased to find that he was much warmer than his own skin, and considered answering his complaint.

“Just name the muscles and shit that I press against them. That’s kinda studying.”

“It’s not studying if I already know them.”

“Do you want me to stop then?”

His words shut up any remaining fuss that John possessed and he lay in silence a moment longer as Dave kept massaging.

“Rhomboids,” he finally mumbled.

“What?”

“That’s the muscle you’re working.”  

Dave let out a small “oh”, looking down at where his hands were positioned. He dug the heels of his palms in some more before moving lower onto his back, locating the soft areas to press on.

“Erector Spinae.”

Dave fought back a laugh and pressed his fingers in a little harder into the muscle that ran along John’s spine. John let out a pleased sound, but he masked it well enough by shooting a brief “what” to Dave’s laughter.

“Are you seriously laughing at a muscle that has the word erect in it?” John finally asked when he realized Dave was sticking to the safety of silence.

“Do I make your erect muscle feel good?” he cooed ridiculously, biting against his laughter.

“Oh my god, Dave, shut up.” John twisted to look back at him, propping himself up on his arms and in the process, forcing Dave to lay off of him. He was wearing a goofy expression, somewhere between annoyed and happy.

“You have a nice Erector,” he teased with a shameless grin, still kneading his fingers into the muscle in question. Leaning closer as he said this, he was about to press against John’s lips, now turned towards him, but was met instead with a hearty hit from a pillow and then, John’s laughter.

“Bastard,” he said in response, already wrapping his arms around John’s torso to wrestle against him and, dropping all pretenses of massage, he fell down beside him on the mattress.

John was now giggling madly like he did, a familiar sound which always managed to make Dave’s stomach bubble up pleasantly, and John continued to use his unfair pillow advantage against the unarmed Dave. He tossed off his shades, not looking forwards to getting them crushed by a wave of downy feathers and ghost print, and let them land on the bedside table before resuming whatever sort of brawl he had accidentally initiated with John.

John was apparently attempting to get on top of him, to pin him and get the upper hand, but Dave was resistant, flipping a leg over his to keep his lower body down. Their faces were close, close enough for him to see the small creases that John’s brow made from laughing so hard, and for John’s breath to fall against him in waves. It was intimate in an informal sort of way, John’s hand firmly on Dave’s waist, his fingers touching familiar skin under his shirt, and the contact wasn’t at all unwelcome.

“What are you even trying to do, you little shit?” Dave growled, hoping that John wouldn’t mistake his words for actual aggression. Fortunately, he didn’t, and he laughed in his face and finally flopped himself over top of Dave.

Squirming under his sudden weight, Dave latched onto his wrists in an attempt to fend him off, but John was really stronger than he looked, and he quickly switched the situation, unhinging Dave’s grip and holding his arms, helpless, down against the bed.

It took him a moment to realize that he couldn’t move, even if he had genuinely wanted to.

It was absurd to him that John, the shorter one of the two, the one that had yet to fill into his bone structure and gain some actual muscle mass, was able to pin him. Not only that, but it was absurd to Dave that he actually enjoyed it.

Because there was John, panting, smiling, familiar John, leaning down against him with his bare heat seeping into his chest and fingers loosening on his wrists.

“That’s what I was doing,” John announced proudly, finally letting go of him and sliding off of him, laying on his back beside Dave and staring at the ceiling. He had a distant look to his face as he sighed, seeming as if all the worlds trapped and chained in his mind had at last come to life on their own accord in his own version of reality, suddenly and breathtakingly, performing intricate dances past his eyes.

Dave reached over cup his stubbly, scruffy jaw, catching his attention. John tossed him a glance and leaned in closer to him, half sat up and propped on his elbow.

"You know, my dad is going to be gone for a long while," he reminded carefully, eyes coyly avoiding his as he traced a few fingers over Dave’s arm, unable to keep a smirk off his face.

Dave figured he may as well play along. “What’s your point?”

“My point is you should kiss me.” John had a strange half-smile on his face and the cool draft from the air vents making his hair shift slightly. It caught Dave’s eye and he moved his hand from John’s jaw to his hairline, gently carding through the dense mass of it.

“You know you’re allowed to kiss me first, right?” he said absently, focus still falling on his hair. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss John, because he did, all of the time, but he was too comfortable right now with how they were and he didn’t want to change anything. Making things heated just seemed like the perfect way to crush the airy mood. “That’s kind of what the whole boyfriend thing entails. Free kisses without asking, all the time. Like a 7/11, but we only dish out lip locks and not cheap  bottles of expired coke.”

“Coke can’t expire.”

“You’ve never tried to drink the bottled shit my bro tries to pawn off on me.” Dave smiled as he spoke, letting all his teeth show lazily as his cheek pressed up against the pillow.

John’s eyes tracked onto his and when Dave looked back at last, it was a welcome enough sight that he sighed audibly, relaxing into the mattress he lay on. He stayed like that, totally not caring that he was indeed getting lost in his boyfriend's eyes and that it was practically the most cliche thing he’s ever done in his life. There was just something incredible about John’s eyes that he couldn’t get enough of, no matter how long he stared. The deep, deep blue seemed bottomless and Dave was wavering on the edge of a brittle, shaking precipice everytime he looked into them, readily falling into their hold.

“You know,” John said after a long moment, his voice lowered to something careful and soft, words slurred slightly from the way he was laying and a slow seeping tiredness. "Sometimes you can be really, really sweet and I don't think anyone notices that enough. I like that you let me see it."

His cheeks warmed, Dave let the silence spread out over them again after that, warm honey flattening and sprawling over glass, and he kept threading his fingers through his hair. He dragged his nails against his scalp, gently, and John's eyelids wavered in their waking vigilance, his lashes black and thick against his skin as he blinked. He was trying not to drift off and it made Dave's smile glow with something warm. His palm fell down to his cheek again, feeling his body heat, his life.

"I love you," Dave said simply. He hadn't thought before speaking and he was caught off guard at how easy the words came to him, slipping out past his tongue as if he had practiced the moment a thousand times before.

John's eyes, which had finally drifted closed, reopened again, attentive and focused on Dave, soft. They had said the words before to each other, even when they were friends, spoken in passing and insincerity, tossed around with laughter or a joke about butts, but this was different now, and he knew.

Not sure he was expecting, Dave drew a small breath, his hand stopped on John's skin. His eyes traced over his face, the small slope of his chin, the dip in the skin above his top lip, trying to read him. Hoping for a smile, or some form of positive reaction, he was confused when John's expression crumpled, bunched up like a crushed soda can, too shiny and broken to be right.

His eyes were brimming with new tears, starting to grow puffy and red, and Dave froze. This was not what he was expecting at all. This wasn't even in his possible list of outcomes this was... this was pretty bad. He was torn between gathering John up into his hold, calming him down as he started to sob softly, or leaving him be, afraid that his presence was the last thing John wanted when he was like this. John made the decision for him though, coming closer and burying his face in his chest. Likely, his shirt would be getting snot covered and wet, but Dave could hardly bring himself to care, his arms already wrapping around him, one hand protectively cradling the base of his skull.

John clung to him weakly, his slight frame shaking every few moments. Clicking into comforter mode, Dave resumed running his hand through his hair, lips pressed against his hair. There were a hundred reasons that came to Dave's mind as to why John might be crying, but none of them quite made enough sense except for one, and it only made his mood dip lower as he came to that conclusion.

"Is this about your dad?" he mumbled cautiously. His voice was muffled by John's hair, but he seemed to hear just fine, nodding a few times.

"I just want him to like you,” he said into Dave’s chest after a few moments.

His shoulders shook a couple more times, and Dave wanted nothing more than to make things easier for John, somehow, in any way it took. "It'll get better," he offered, knowing it was plain and weak to say that and he hated himself for not being good enough at this. "Things will calm down with him soon enough. He's a nice guy and he loves you. He'll come around, trust me." John didn't say anything in return, so Dave took this as a cue to keep going. "And if he really doesn't, then we'll make do. You can come chill at my place if it gets real bad. Besides, you'll be off to college next year anyways. You're in residence right?" He nodded minutely. "See? Distance might make things better for you two. He'll cool off and understand, sooner or later."

"Do you honestly think  that or are you just trying to make me stop crying on you?" he asked, untucking his head from Dave's chest and looking up at him. The red of his eyes made the juxtaposed blue look too intense, a wrong kind of vibrancy, like looking through old styled 3D glasses.

"I’m positive, John," he whispered, thumbing a line over the wetness that streaked from his cheek. Dave offered a smile which John took eagerly, and he tucked himself up against him again, one arm slung over his side to hold on. Dave noticed the way the edges of his lips were slightly upturned as his eyes closed and he thought he wasn't so bad at this after all.

"I love you too," John finally mumbled, not bothering to pull away from Dave's chest to speak. The words made his tension ease off dramatically.

They lay like that, comfortable and quiet, for longer than Dave could kept track of and he was fairly certain that John fell asleep, judging by his slowed breath. He kept playing with his hair, the act of it strangely soothing to him, and he shook his head to himself. “Study too damn much,” he muttered, to which John shifted slightly, drowsily.

He knew that he should really be getting home soon. It wasn’t that he had anything in particular to do there, but he didn’t want to be with John when his dad eventually came home.  Dave hadn’t seen his dad since a few months ago, on the night of the pool incident, and he didn’t look forwards to another surprise encounter. It was usually best to take his leave before it started becoming an issue.

Contemplating the best way to untangle himself from John and whether he should wake him or not to tell him he’d be leaving, Dave froze.

From the lower level rose the familiar sound of a front door unlocking.

For a moment he was solidified in fear, but he snapped back out of his stupor quickly enough.

“John,” Dave whispered urgently, shaking him a little. “Wake the fuck up, come on.”

“Dave stop it,” he objected, roused from sleep, but he was objecting loudly, and Dave grew ever more panicked.

Dave clamped his hand over his mouth, firm.

That seemed to get John’s attention at least, who was now struggling to be free of his grip, his eyes still half closed and clinging to sleep. Only after Dave whispered an frantic “listen”, did he slow down, glaring at Dave for a moment.

And then his dad’s voice rang out from the lower level, wafting up towards them like a cold breeze. “John? Can you come help me with groceries?”

Finally understanding, John’s eyes widened in panic, and then he was pushing Dave away with strength that denied his size, sending him clean off the edge of the bed. He landed in an ungraceful, solid thump, holding back a groan as he sat up and rubbed at his shoulder.

Again, the voice from below, but this time edged with concern. “John? Is everything ok?”

John grew ever more flustered as he noticed that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He managed to fish his old one off the floor and pulled it on hastily before shooeing Dave away again, gesturing to the closet.

They both heard the footsteps coming up the stairs, dull thumps that approached darkly, closer and closer.

“It’s fine!” John finally replied in an uncomfortably high pitched voice, opening the door to the closet to stuff Dave into. “Just fell off my chair, haha! I’ll be down in a second.” He shoved Dave in roughly and closed the door on him, which turned his world dark with only the smell of John’s laundry left as company.

There was a mess of fallen clothes on the floor, and Dave stepped on a metal hanger, gritting his teeth in silent pain. Biting back a curse aimed at John for being such a sloppy fuck, Dave turned around to face the door. There was a line of light from under it, which he watched carefully, the only link he had to what was going on outside.

“Dad, I said I’d be down in a second,” John insisted from his room, and Dave could hear the door opening, the same heavy footsteps as before now entering his room.

There was a pause and then, “Is everything alright?”

“What? Yeah! I’m fine, dad.”

“I was just concerned… and I can’t help noticing… you’re shirt... is on inside out.” Wincing at this, Dave pressed his forehead to the door and closed his eyes, focusing on his breath, keeping it slow and quiet.

“Oh… Guess it is.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “Didn’t you say something about groceries?”

“...Yes. I did. Are you sure everything is ok? How is your studying going?”

“It’s coming along fine, dad. But I need a break, let’s go put those groceries away.”

There was the sound of the both of them leaving and someone closed the door firmly behind them. Dave hesitated before slowly easing open the closet door and peeking out. The room was empty, save for the rumpled ghost comforters on John’s bed and the slew of textbooks on the floor. He was about to heave a relieved sigh when he realized he was trapped in the house now,since  the kitchen where John and his dad would be was located was directly between the stairs and the front door. Great.

Pulling out his phone, Dave quickly brought up John’s number, shooting him a text and hoping that his phone was set to silent. Sure enough, after a few moments more of tense waiting, hovering just past the threshold of the closet, he got an answer.

TG: holy fucking shit i think i just about crapped myself

EB:  that one was pretty bad, yeah.

TG: should i just wait up here for a few eternities until your dad goes to bed or something and i can ditch

EB: he’d probably wake up if you opened the front door while he’s asleep.

TG: you mean exactly like you didnt right now?

EB: shut up, you are just really comfy to sleep with.

EB: but you can go out through the backdoor if you’re quick! he just went out front to get the last bag of groceries from the car.

TG: awesome

That was all the prompting Dave needed to get going, quietly slipping out into the hall and descending the staircase hastily. Sure enough, the kitchen was empty and John by the hall, waving him towards the back door urgently, his eyes flicking towards the front door. It was right in line of sight of the stairs and most of the hallway that led to the back of the house, but if Dave went quickly and with a little luck, he’d be safe

If there was one thing Dave never wanted to count on, it was luck.

He broke into a light-footed jog, running as quietly as he could to the back exit. Feet thumping against the hardwood floor of the hall, he was painfully aware of his visibility, as well as the stakes at which not being viewed hinged upon.

Only a few paces from the door, his safety, a hiding place and freedom all  rolled into one, Dave was halted in his movement.  An all too familiar voice, hard edged and firm, reached his exposed back, stabbing into his flesh as if aimed arrows. Heart thudding in his ears, he skidded to a stop, terrified to turn around and face his fate.

“I was wondering whose shoes were here by the door,” the voice stated flatly. Dave could imagine him there, even with his back turned towards him, standing in the front hall. Arms crossed, wait no, hanging down by his sides, weighed down by the heavy groceries he must be holding, Mr. Egbert must be harbouring a resentful expression, his steely eyes hardened into a glare. A sigh escaped Dave, eyes closed as if that would keep him safe from what was to come.

“Dad…” John said timidly, “He was just dropping by to give me a break from all that studying.”

“I don’t want to know what kind of “break” he was providing.”

Dave peeked over his shoulder at him and winced, slowly turning around in shame. As expected, John’s father looked more disapproving than actually angered, but he knew all too well that John was affected by a disappointed glance far more harshly than simple yelling. Dave rocked uncomfortably on the balls of his feet as Mr. Egbert’s gaze was stuck primarily on John and not him.

“He was just keeping me company, dad!” he insisted, eyes pleading for belief. “He’s my friend and I just wanted to talk to someone.”

His eyes flicked quickly from John to Dave, then back again. It took him centuries before speaking again, at least seeming so to Dave, but when he did, it was so quiet and _finalized_ that the plain hurt on John’s face was painful to see.

“I don’t want you seeing each other any longer. It’s for the best.” His eyes didn’t waver an inch as he spoke, drilling holes through his son.

“Please,” John whispered, his eyes bright with the sheen of tears budding there. “He’s been my best friend since before high school. Please, dad, you don’t understand.”

“I understand enough,” he countered, voice turning sharp and stinging the air with sparks. “And it’s unacceptable.”

John’s face was on the verge of crying again, for the second time today, and Dave continued rocking on his heels, guilt overwhelming and paralyzing his senses. John broke into a small fit of sniffles, still pleading under his breath, and it grew to be too much.

“Do I get a say in this?” Dave finally spoke up, trying to cover the small crack in his speech.

“I don’t see why you should,” he nearly spat, turning to stare now at Dave. It was nearly crushing to have that iron gaze upon him, and he swallowed heavily before continuing.

“Well I do anyways.” He managed to step a small step closer, chest slightly puffed out as he grew confidence in his argument. “ John’s my bro just as much as I’m his, and we’re not gonna stop seeing each other just ‘cause you got a problem with us. I mean, Jesus Christ, take a look at your kid,” he said, raising his voice a pitch and gesturing to John. He waited till Mr. Egbert glanced over at his silently sobbing son before continuing. “Look at him. You’re doing that shit to him, you’re the one he’s crying over. You know how much stress he’s under to make you happy? Give him a fucking break already, he’s gonna go insane trying to please everyone. See, that’s the thing you’re not seeing -- John loves you more than pretty much anything else in the world, and that’s sayin’ a lot, ‘cause he’s got a lot of love to give. But he cares so much about you not hating on him and all he gets for it in return from you is glares and demands that he stops seeing his friends.

“I mean, I’m gonna be honest with you, I love John. And yeah, maybe we’re a little more gay than we originally thought for all those years before. But he makes me happy and it makes him happy to see me, and nothing’s going to change that no matter how hard you try and stop us. So yeah, go ahead and try and make John hate you. It won’t work, since he loves you too much, but you can bet your grey pinstripe slacks that you’re going to hurt him hard in the process. And that shit’s not ok. I don’t care what you do, but don’t hurt John.”

It seemed like his mini-rant had done its job in effectively shutting everyone the hell up, but after he was finished, Dave suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself and his hands fidgeted on the pockets of his jeans. John was nearly stunned out of crying, the tense, bunched muscles of his brow loosened somewhat by a sliver of a hopeful smile. His father however, was virtually expressionless, only staring at Dave until it became uncomfortable.

“What?” Dave asked defensively.

“... I think it’s time you leave.”

Licking his lips irritably, Dave nodded once. There wasn’t much to say or do beyond not anger him any further, so his only option was to take a bow and get out of there. “Yeah,” he muttered, stepping back down the hall to the front again. His shoes were still there anyways. No use leaving them here -- he might never get them back.

Passing John, Dave tossed him a short little look, hoping he picked up the hidden shard of sympathy embedded in it. “Do good on your final tomorrow,” he murmured, looking at his off-white socks as he kept a wide girth around Mr. Egbert, finally at the door and slipping on his beaten up shoes.

His hand was on the doorknob, head bent from the silent opprobrium being cast his way. It was late afternoon and he’d have little issue catching a bus in this mild weather, but he didn’t particularly enjoy leaving John when he was tear stained and red around the eyes. Especially not when he was alone with his dad. Sparing a second’s glance behind him, he saw both of them staring at him, awaiting his exit. Dave hesitated, on the verge of speaking up again.

“Next time you come over,” Mr. Egbert said slowly, making Dave close his mouth, “I want to be aware of it and for you to not be behind closed doors. Those are my conditions.”

Brows raised at the vague, fuzzy permission, Dave sent a terse look of interest his way, his hold on the door handle tightening slightly.

“So there’s gonna be another time?”

“That is what my statement would imply, yes.” He nodded curtly after speaking. Dave was about ready to beam at him, but instead he nodded in return.

“Yeah. See you later, then.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I've apparently been taking an unplanned break from writing, but with any luck I'll be right into the swing of things after this and you can expect more from me soon (if you're hopeful) or more from me in 12 months (if hope has been known to let you crash and burn on the tar stained freeway on occasion and you're now wary of putting faith in it so readily again, and rightly so). Either way, feel free to torment me via tumblr and yell at me to write through there since that's all the motivation I often recieve in my lazy little life -- quackquackdontdocrack.tumblr.com


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